Why Hermione Became A Healer
by AlwaysObviously
Summary: Six years had gone by since she had left his body in the Shrieking Shack. The first six months she had spent in a stupor, crying useless tears that were spilled for all of the friends she had lost, but her heart had been broken because of one man. One man who had never known of her feelings towards him. What happens if the impossible comes to pass, and a man thought dead returns?


**A/N: This was written for the Daily Prophet competition of the QLFC.  
**

 **Assigned prompt: Each position will receive a career. Your job is to write about someone in that career—someone who was not in that career in canon: Healer**

 **Optional prompts:**

 **3\. (Word) coherent**

 **5\. (Genre) Hurt/Comfort**

 **13\. (Object) blanket**

 **Word count: 952**

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Title: Why Hermione became a Healer

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"Why did you become a Healer?" he asked.

Hermione did not raise her eyes from his mangled leg and kept cleaning the wound with the help of her wand before coaxing the tissue into knitting together. Finally, she replied.

"It was just something I felt I had to do."

"Why?" He did not relent.

She sighed, unwilling to discuss her reasons with him. Especially him.

"I was very affected by the loss of someone. Someone I might have been able to save if I had known the right spells and techniques. I made a promise to myself to never let that happen again. Thus – I became a healer."

"Weasley died?" he sounded surprised.

She frowned at him, confused. "No? … I mean – that depends on which one you are referring to. Ronald is very much alive, in case you meant him."

"I did."

The silence thickened as she was bent to work over his leg, fading the angry red scars that were left on his leg where he had been bitten. He was lucky that creature had not taken the whole thing off.

"I know Potter is alive, so who did you lose?"

She sighed. Why was he so unwilling to let this go? She finished working on his scars and pulled the blanket over his legs.

Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. After all these years, she had hoped that looking at him would not affect her anymore, would not make her stomach drop and the blood in her ears roar as it had done when she had still been a teenager. That she would look at him with a mild curiosity and the detachment that came with time and adulthood. That she would be able to form coherent sentences in his presence.

How wrong she had been. She felt herself go weak at the sight of his black eyes, framed by dark eyebrows drawn into a contemplative scowl, and she was suddenly robbed of her speech. Six years had gone by since she had left his dead body in the Shrieking Shack. The first six months she had spent in a stupor, crying useless tears that were spilled for all of the friends she had lost, but her heart had been broken because of one man. One man who had never known of her feelings towards him, who would have laughed in her face had he known. And still, she had found herself wishing that she had told him; that he would have died knowing that even if it only was a ridiculous, bushy-haired little know it all, there still was a person out there who loved him.

But her courage had failed her. And when he had died in her arms, her heart had shattered into a million pieces. Pieces that had never really mended, even after the passing of six long, arduous years involving picking herself up again, finishing her NEWTs and completing her training as a healer. She had lived, and yet not lived.

Until now.

Until he had shown up. Everyone had believed him dead, but there he was, without any explanation. One day, he had been rushed into St. Mungo's with extensive injuries to his leg. No one knew where he had been or where he had come from, but he had been recognized instantly, and the best healer at the hospital had been called.

And now, lost in his gaze, she was unable to keep herself from speaking the truth.

"That day in the Shrieking Shack, I thought I had lost you."

For six years, she had prayed for a miracle. Anything to have him back. And now that he was here, she would not waste a second. He needed to know how she felt for him, no matter if he thought it absurd.

His scowl deepened, confusion written all over his face. "Me? Why would you care about my death?"

She gave him a sad little smile. "And there I thought the Master Legilimens had known all this time. Or maybe you did, and you just forgot." She shakily drew in a deep breath. "During that last year that you taught us at Hogwarts, I fell in love with you. I tried my best not to, but I failed miserably. I could hardly draw a breath when you were near." She still couldn't, she realized.

Her gaze had fallen on the tips of her shoes and remained there. She was too embarrassed to see the expression on his face after this delicate revelation. Would he laugh at her?

When the silence dragged on, she thought she might die of shame. Then he spoke, his silky voice a velvet whisper that caressed her ears. "Believe me, if I had known that, I would never have forgotten it."

She felt him lean closer. "You were the brightest, most beautiful student to ever grace my classroom. Of course, I noticed you. And of course, I pushed those thoughts aside. I could not allow myself to go down that lane. Not that I would not have immensely enjoyed it, I am sure."

His words finally gave her the courage to meet his eyes again. A fire burned in their black depths.

"And now?" she whispered.

"And now, I cannot keep myself from thinking what it would be like to go down that lane," he whispered back.

One of her hands came up to grasp the lapel of his robe. "Then don't hold back."

Both moved at the same time, their lips meeting in a heated kiss. Finally, Hermione thought as he explored her mouth, finally, all the little pieces of her shattered heart had been mended again.

 _The End_

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 **A/N: And now? Please don't hold back with the reviews... ;)**


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